No One Stops
by The Romanticidal Edwardian
Summary: This was not a world of beautiful people. This was my story, disfigured. This was not where I was supposed to end up. And yet, here I was. ExB. Rated M for mature themes, sexual situations, strong language, drug use, and general adult content.
1. The First Day

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, or any related characters. Any references to real places or people is purely for purposes of fiction, and should similarly be taken with a grain of salt.**

* * *

The meth-heads, the crackwhores, the Forever XXI lot lizards with thirty-nine years of fifty-year-old leathered skin and blackened, cracked sneers teemed in the parking lot amid more average civilians like zombies while I watched from inside the glass window of the fortress I could now officially refer to as my life.

"You have a customer," Mary muttered, sounding a little irritated that I could at all be distracted on my first day. Startled, I twisted my head back to the register, turning my back on the apocalypse behind me.

"Hi, how are you?" I asked as energetically as I could to the dirty, grizzly man standing in front of me, donned in a shirt that displayed his truck company's logo. His odor was so prominent I could smell it from across the counter, which was a yard wide. I tried my absolute hardest not to make a face, considering the girl who was training me was for sure going to report back to the managers', but never in my life had I been thrust into a world where hygiene was an option. That was not my world. ...That wasn't my world.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he was the first customer I had encountered in such a state in my six hours of being here.

He grunted in response, his eyes trailing my torso up and down, and I thanked baby Jebus for the hideous, oversized red smock I donned. Maybe some girls who, like me, had never been hit on in their life would be adversely affected, appreciating the attention, or at least finding it flattering. But considering that these men would actually pay to have sex with the aforementioned hookers in a heartbeat, the praise was more insulting and substanceless.

I shook my head slightly as I scanned his items. His coffee cup had no barcode of course, and I had to search for a second through the different menus on the POS to find the right screen to ring up hot beverages. Mary moved to help me when she saw me hesitate, but I quickly found it before she could intervene. I was determined to impress. As repulsive as the environment was to me, it had better pay than most places that would have me, and I needed it.

I started bagging the trucker's items as he swiped his card, and Mary nodded next to me. "It's good you're doing that," she muttered, as I tried to avoid glancing at any of her rotting teeth. "Saves time."

I let my sarcasm have full reign in my inner monologue, but I gave Mary only a grateful smile for her support. This was not my first job. This was not even the hardest job I had ever had. I was running a register. Sure I had to learn the system, the brands of cigarettes when I had never smoked a day in my life, how to operate the lotto machine when I had never played, interspersed with taking care of the truck stop's "to-go" bar which had the fountain drinks, coffee, creamers, popcorn, boiled peanuts, grill, and perpetually dirtied counters, along with the hardest task of all, _dealing_ with people.

But I knew, arrogant as it sounded, I was considerably more intelligent than most of the people I had encountered thus far, and if they could do it, so could I.

But I had thought that before.

* * *

The long fall down is, in retrospect, not so much a fall but a steady race, foot by foot, over uneven but easily traversed terrain, down the cliff. It seems like it happens so suddenly, one minute you're at the top, and the next you're looking up at the precipice you were on, dazed, feeling around your head for the congealed blood that must be there because surely you fell, this wasn't your fault, it was a clumsy accident. Just an accident. But then you look back and remember every single moment, most trivial but all so relevant, all the accumulation of a million steps of failure, that walked you down that fucking cliff to be swallowed by the jagged rocks at the bottom. If you're lucky. And there's no blood on your head. You are one hundred percent in tact.

That's the worst part.

* * *

I was surprised by how much there was to this truck stop/gas station. It all seemed so straight forward the first time I walked in here. But at the end of my first shift, after seven hours of the continuous onslaught of new stimuli, I would admit my shock at the amount of things there were to memorize.

The phone at the front counter rang and for the first time today, I was forced to answer it. While helping a customer. I was told I would have to get used to the multi-tasking. I had been around registers, I had been on receptionist duty, but never had I been told I had to do the two simultaneously. All my previous manager's were of the same mind that the two actions could only lead to unnecessary mistakes. But I was already getting the feeling that I wasn't working in the most well-managed place...

I scanned a muffin. "Thank you for calling One Stops, this is Bella speaking, how may I help you?" I saw Mary nodding in approval as she helped customers at the other register as well. I motioned towards a small price screen facing the customers for their convenience. "Yes, this is the one in Renton...yes off the I-5..." The cash register door opened with a slight click as I made change, trying to listen intently and count correctly, "...you too, have a great night."

_Can I stay here?_ was the question I kept asking myself.

At ten in the evening, my designated hour of departure, Mary, my mentor for the day, a woman who had to be only in her early thirties but was considerably aged by her smoking habit, her yellowed, rotting teeth, and the chemically burnt frizz on the top of her head, showed me how to close the drawer, which required so many steps that I wondered how I would memorize it. How _she_ had memorized it. But I assured myself it was all repetition, and the fact that I was being shown this after half a day of new information was what was wounding my confidence.

And the fact that it had been a little while since I had put my mind to any good use. Behind my excuses, I had a very real fear of being proven incompetent.

_You can do it_, I told myself, breathing out, still sitting in one of the small and cluttered rooms in the small and cluttered back office where Mary had finished our paperwork and gone home. _You can do it. Just do it_.

It all seemed too much suddenly, as it often did.

* * *

Walking out into the clear June night, I pulled out my phone habitually and was shocked to find a text message waiting for me. Flipping it open, my stomach dropped sickly. My mother.

_Charlie told me u got the job. Good for u. But did u call that teacher your guidnce cnslor told u to c? keep school in mind._

I cringed for several reasons. Firstly, her text speak. Secondly, the fact that she was talking to me when _she_ was the one who wanted a clean break. Thirdly, I just could not handle the subject matter. The shame, the guilt, the anger, the anxiety. That was why I was here. To leave it behind me.

* * *

The big, red, old Chevy I drove creaked and groaned all the way back to the apartment. But considering it had somehow managed the entire trek from Forks to Renton, I had faith in it that I might not have possessed otherwise.

It was rusted and loud, but it was free, and it was freedom to have a vehicle. My dad had bought it from an old friend, so it was really more a favor than a business transaction. He had given it to me with some trepidation, but my father still believed in me in a way I wasn't sure my mother would ever be able to again.

But it didn't matter. I was an adult now. My faults were just mine now. I didn't have to involve them anymore. Well, that's what I liked to believe anyway.

Really, I just had an adult's ability to make a child's mistakes.

Everything I had right now indebted me to Charlie in a way I was resigned to accept. After all, he was helping me, not condemning me. What a strange change of pace...

* * *

I let myself into the apartment and paused as I toed off my shoes. There was no noise. My roommate was probably still in Seattle. She had informed me that she stayed with friends there a lot because she went to the University, and that even though we were technically roommates, I would have the place to myself most of time. I found it refreshing and discouraging all at once.

Charlie was a good acquaintance of her parents, and had pulled some strings to have them convince their daughter to have me as a roommate. Really, her parents paid for it so it was their decision but we all figured it was better if our relationship didn't start off at gunpoint. But I can only imagine what horror stories she had heard about me.

So here I was, paying a very reduced rent in an apartment I essentially had to myself, in a free truck, in a new city away from either of my parents, free to start a new life. For all intents and purposes, I was very lucky. Liberated.

I felt punished. Chained.

* * *

I stared up at the ceiling in my still bare room, my modest luggage against one wall, watching the streetlight that streamed through my curtains make pale yellow and deep navy shadows. I went over what I could remember learning today to prepare for tomorrow.

I was still viewing the world in blocks of time. I didn't want the details, didn't want to keep them, to live them. I wanted the time to pass as fast as it could, and I wasn't ready for the small things. I didn't want the past, the present, barely the future.

The tears wanted to come. They choked the back of my throat and pricked at the corners of my eyes. I slapped myself as hard as I could, gasping lightly at the brief sear of prickling pain, and then did it one more time for good measure.

I was going to have to get up tomorrow and do this all over again. If I let myself cry now, what would stop me from doing it tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after?

I couldn't drown in a river of my own tears. So there was no use to them.

_Just don't stop._

* * *

_**- The Romanticidal Edwardian**_


	2. Contemplation

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, or any related characters. Any references to real places or people is purely for purposes of fiction, and should similarly be taken with a grain of salt.**

* * *

Sometimes I think that the only thing keeping me from screaming is the thinnest string pegged into the earth. But you imagine a blimp on a balloon string on a windy day. You just wonder how long until it breaks because it is inevitable. There's just no way around it. It's a cringe and a flinch with every sway.

* * *

One of the days when I should have been doing my AP homework, any of it - hell, when I could have even been doing my English assignment, my favorite subject - I was watching instead Louis C.K.'s "Hilarious" because I really needed to laugh and I was latching on to anything that might help. At the very beginning of his comedy routine, he had a joke about the connotative meanings of the word 'everybody,' and one line that he said was, "You're just dead people that didn't die yet."

Naturally, I started to cry. Sob, uncontrollably, more like...

And I couldn't figure out if it was because I agreed with the statement or because I didn't.

* * *

It's just so easy to lose sight of things. It's like pouring out a whole thousand piece jigsaw puzzle onto the floor, and a few years later you realize that you lost the box. So you have a small piece fit together next a much larger pile of crooked pieces jumbled together, but you can't remember what the picture was supposed to form. So you stare, wondering what you're supposed to do with those pieces now.

There's no way you can put them whole...

* * *

When I was in the fourth grade, I somehow managed to become friends with the most popular girl in the class, Courtney. To this day, I couldn't tell you why. I even replaced her slightly less but still popular best friend and took my place at her side as the reigning queens of Ms. Donnelly's class.

If I thought about it now, my more cynical side would cloud the memories and assume that she prefered me because I made her look even better by comparison.

But at the time...it felt like Courtney saw something in me, something special, past my frazzled and frumpy appearance. Because my jeans never fit, my shirt was always baggy, and after lunch, I always, without fail, ended up with a jam stain that I thought nothing of. But she talked to me, asked my opinion, _chose_ me. I'd never been chosen in lieu of other options before. I was on cloud nine.

She and I along with two other girls would sometimes sit in a circle during recess on the grass and sing songs, and rate how we did. I wanted so much to be the best. I felt like I was already on my way to being somebody, with Courtney as my best friend. But I knew I was still second best and I wanted to excel in something, besides being the best member of the Battle of the Books team. That didn't seem worthy enough. But singing...that was what cool people did. That's what people became famous and successful off of. The fame I wasn't so concerned about...but I wanted to be worth something.

When Courtney sang...she closed her eyes and felt it, and she was genuinely good. It was natural. She had a deeper voice than we did. She had rhythm and pitch control. She sung like Christina Aguilera and it was impressive. I would watch her face contort, her throat flex, her perfectly gelled ponytail slip softly over her cool black cotton trench, with her breasts round because of the bra she wore already under a graphic tee and perfectly fitted jeans. The Arizona sun shone on her like an angel sent down among us mortals.

I, perhaps, idolized her a tad.

I would practice in my room everyday, singing along to my mother's off-color music that even most adults didn't listen to, let alone children. But I felt like I did so good.

One day after I had practiced a song by The Cure, I sang my heart out on that grass. I shut my eyes and in my head I was Courtney, 2.0. I tried to lounge the effortlessly way she did, with my low messy braid tangling over my yellow baggy shirt with that purple jam stain on my unconstrained, young breasts while I struggled to keep my pants from slipping down when I moved. I felt my throat flex, my brow furrow in concentration as I let my voice slip around the notes. I thought I heard myself hit them, and I felt as strong and smooth as water gliding over stones.

When I was done, I opened my eyes, dazed. Courtney watched me, her face impassive, eyes dark and unreadable.

"Who was better?" I asked.

"Courtney," the other two sang without hesitation.

My eyes had been on Courtney's, her eyes on mine. Her eyes were still dark and studied but she smiled a little at the answer.

She had already know what the outcome would be. I felt like that's what she was telling me. That I shouldn't try to be better. She felt bad that I thought I ever could be. I should just settle for being her friend. That was the most I could ever do. I had no talent. I had no charisma. I had nothing that would ever distinguish me, make me better, make me succeed.

_Stop trying Bella,_ her eyes said. _Isn't this good enough? Isn't this better than always failing?_

She wasn't trying to be malicious, mean, or cruel. She was just accepting facts. And trying to get me to do the same because regardless of her motivations, she was my friend at the time.

I stopped singing after that.

* * *

My eyes open at two in the afternoon. I had to be at One Stops at three for my second day. I sat up slowly, reeling from my dreams.

Even in my sleep I couldn't escape my memories.

* * *

Please review.

- _**The Romanticidal Edwardian**_


	3. Fiji

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, or any related characters. Any references to real places or people is purely for purposes of fiction, and should similarly be taken with a grain of salt.**

* * *

It took me fifteen minutes to get to work, leaving me forty-five minutes to rise from the bed and make myself ready to walk out the door prepared for a seven-hour shift.

With my cat snoozing beside me, having finally come out of hiding, I wasted ten minutes of that time lying still, my head turned towards the shaft of sunlight bearing down through the curtain, thick enough to block the harshness of day but leaving enough softly filtered light to reveal the swirling dust particles of the air. They captivated me. How had they come to be there, those exact particles, that abundance of them, in this room, in that space. Did they know I watched them? Was it fate, coincidence, or simple science that brought them here?

I watched them twirling and wondered, my stomach clenched with a sudden, painful longing to be one of those dust particles. So simple, elegant, focused. What regrets did dust have...dancing so surely in the sun stream...

* * *

I walked into the store's office to clock in. The manager was in her office, and then there was a woman I hadn't met yet sitting in the office where the computer I was supposed to clock in on resided.

"Hello Bella," Maggie said, smiling from her office. She was a large woman with mousy, curly hair and a warm face. She seemed nice when she interviewed me and nice now, but I was always weary of the big boss. "How did your first day go?"

I swallowed slightly, forcing an amenable smile onto my features. "It was...okay. A lot to learn you know...but I think I can get it. Just have to practice," I hastened to add. I had learned it was best to always impress confidence upon your boss even if you had to lie through your teeth.

Maggie was still smiling, just nodding, and since I had nothing else to add I turned awkwardly toward the woman in the office behind me.

She looked to be in her twenties, and was the first attractive person I had seen here. She had long, straight blonde hair, and a pretty face. She was a little chubby but it didn't take away from her. Her only drawback was the absurd make-up she adorned. She wore glitter eyeliner on her upper lash, and bright blue eye shadow that matched the blue work shirt she wore. Embroidered into the shirt was '_Kate Denali, AGM.'_

She smiled brightly when our eyes met, but hers were still cautious and appraising. That was the look I was more used to seeing in a manager's eyes. "So you're Bella," she grinned, holding out her hand for me to shake. "I'm Kate, the assistant manager. If you continue working nights, you'll be seeing a lot more of me than Maggie." She laughed.

I let out a nervous laugh as well, and I let go of her hand, confident that my shake had been firm. Her's had definitely been. I made sure to keep eye contact with her, trying my best not to stare at her bizarre make-up.

I stood there hesitantly for a second, before Kate seemed to realize why. "Oh, you still have to clock in?"

I nodded and she stood, moving out of the tiny office. She began speaking to Maggie but I blocked them out as I took her vacated chair and started the time clock program.

I tuned back into the world as I saw Kate standing in my peripheral, leaning in the doorway of her office.

"So," she started, looking down at a piece of paper in her hand. "It looks like Mary..." she paused and looked over her shoulder, sharing a look with Maggie. Then she turned back to me and continued like she had never paused, "Trained you yesterday. She should be here in a little bit and she'll train you again. But your shift lead today will be Edward. He'll be here at four. Any questions Mary can't answer, ask him, or me." She glanced up, grinning slyly. "Have you met Edward yet?"

I shook my head no. "I haven't met too many people, I think."

"You'll like Edward, but don't take it personally if he comes off as...prickly. He's not good with new people."

"Um...okay?" I paused. "So only two people work a shift, normally?"

"Oh yeah. Usually a manager will be here as well, except later at night if you - "

" - She hasn't met Edward yet!" Maggie suddenly yelled over Kate's shoulder, then started giggling.

...I was feeling very unsure about this environment.

* * *

As it turned out, I was up at the counter for most of the hour by myself, feeling very nervous as I waited for an inevitable disaster. Customers came and went and most were pretty customary, with simple, ring-able items that were straight-forward enough. I bagged them and wished people a good day, then welcomed the next person.

All things come to an end. Towards four, a man in a First Care uniform came out, handing me his company's credit card. They were an ambulance service that One Stops had an account with, so there was a specific way to set up the pump for them so that they could fuel however much they needed and it would be immediately charged to the account. Mary had shown me how to set up two of them yesterday but I couldn't quite remember it.

"Umm..." I muttered, taking the card dumbly, my face reddening as it always did when I was stressed, unsure, embarrassed, angry, happy, or feeling anything besides stoicism. I glanced up and saw a line forming behind the uniformed man.

Hand trembling slightly, I reached for the phone and searched for the paper that Mary had written with the office extensions on them. I looked for Kate's office, the one we were supposed to call first, and dialed, trying not to look at the growing number of people.

The phone rang four times and went to voice mail. The First Care guy was looking at me with his eyebrow raised, unimpressed. My face burned redder. I heard the mutters and grumbles very loudly of what seemed like a sizeable crowd behind him.

So then I tried the intercom out for the first time. After dialing that extension I waited for the beep overhead and tried to smooth out my voice as I said, "Thank you for shopping at One Stops, attention all employees, can I please have Kate to the front counter please, Kate to the front counter?"

I hung it up, eyes still trained on said counter. I glanced up at First Care dude and said quietly, "It'll be a minute, if you could step to the side please..."

He did, sighing, and I proceeded to help the people behind him. I made it to the third person before Kate came up, stepping next to me at the register. "What's up babe?" she asked, her quick eyes surveying the line and my computer screen in one sweep.

"Um...I don't know how to set up the First Care's yet," I said, trying to smile with humor I did not feel through my reddened face.

She smiled sympathetically, seeming to see through it. "I'm sorry babe, Mary was supposed to be here by now. You're doing great." Her hand slid comfortingly across my back as she proceeded to the next register and set up the First Care, then started helping me with the line. I could breathe again.

Just when I thought the line was gone a new person came in, dropping a Fiji water onto the counter. I glanced up, saying 'Hello,' automatically. It was good I said it before I saw him or else I think I would have faltered mid-word.

I had kind of gotten used to the unattractive already at this point, so this beautiful man just seemed entirely out of place. I wasn't quite sure if he was really so pretty on his own or just by comparison. On further inspection, I figured it might be both. He was young, no doubt close to my age, with auburn hair that was short but wild, his strong, angular face chiseled and proportioned. Copper lashes lined his wide, liquid green eyes. His nose fit his face, slightly crooked from what might have been a previous break. His full lips were turned down at one corner, and I realized he had an eyebrow cocked in an expression of bewildered disapproval.

"Are you okay?" he asked bluntly.

"Huh?" I asked, and it was my turn to be bemused. Customers that weren't truck drivers were usually in and out types, not standing there staring at me types.

"Your face is really red," he said, eyes narrowing as he examined me.

And then I blushed some more. "Oh never mind it," I cringed, trying to smile. "It just does that sometimes."

"Leave the poor girl alone Edward," Kate said, coming over to me after she put the 'Next Register Please' sign on the counter she had just vacated. Her hand went to my shoulder. "She's been alone up here for the past hour and it's her second day."

So this was Edward. Maggie's giggle made a lot more sense now.

Edward's eyes slid from me to Kate for a moment, then back. "Where's Mary?"

"Who the hell knows," Kate answered grimly. "This is the end of the line for her. So I want you to be ready and come up here today if Bella needs any help because I don't know if she's even coming at this point." Kate turned to me with a grin. "Edward's our night-shift lead. He's usually running around the store and he's not at the register much, but he will if you need him to."

I nodded, glancing at Edward, who was still studying me. I looked back to Kate who was much less intimidating, which was saying something. She was loud and bold, I could tell that already, and a manager. I usually never felt comfortable with them.

But Kate took her leave then, yelling for someone who had just walked in from the hallway that led to the back part of the building. I considered briefly the fact that I still hadn't taken a full tour yet.

But first, I had to finish ringing up my too-handsome shift lead...

"You know how to do the employee discount?" he asked me.

I took a deep breath. "Press the discount button after every item."

He nodded, lips pursing like he hadn't expected me to know that.

I saw his credit card in hand. "Credit or debit?" I asked.

"Credit," he answered shortly.

I really didn't want to stand here silently, awkwardly. I actually wanted to make a good impression. "Those are the best waters," I said, pointing to his Fiji. "They just taste smoother..."

"I know," he said, hitting a button on the card machine. He glanced at me from under his ridiculously long lashes. "You don't think it's too bougie? Everyone else does."

"Bougie...?" I muttered, brows furrowing.

"It's short for bourgeois. You know what that is, right?" he asked, slightly challenging.

I felt my temper, long dormant, flare. As crappy as my life had become in the eyes of everyone I used to know and myself, I _was _still intelligent and I wasn't going to be condescended on a subject I probably knew more about than he did. "Yes I know what is, do _you_? Considering the water is only two dollars, I don't think it really qualifies as something that only wealthier members of the Third Estate can afford."

Edward looked taken aback for a moment as I gave him his receipt. Then his lips curved up into a one-sided smirk. "Yes, I know what it is. You're right. I've just been here too long, I think."

My ire faded as quickly as it had come. "Yeah...sorry," I said, smiling nervously. Well now that I had come off as a colossal know-it-all bitch...

"It's Bella, right?" he asked, stepping aside so I could help the person behind him. I nodded.

"I'll be back up in a second," he said. He smiled at me before he turned away, and even though I couldn't feel the heat, I felt sure my stupid face blushed again.

"Uh-oh," said the girl whose items I was ringing up, and when I turned to look at her, she was smirking broadly.

Smiling back at the sheer absurdity of my entire situation, I shook my head as I read her the total.

A wave passed through me, one of the shudders of the universe where you are sure that in some latent way, you must posses some prescient abilities.

With perfect clarity, I felt the entire weight of a new future press down upon me, and at the end of this weight, I heard the words, 'This will not end well.'

It felt so certain, so true, that I didn't even pause to think about it. Of course. Of course.

* * *

_Please review._

_- The Romanticidal Edwardian_


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